One Too Many - REVISED
by ScienceImagineGreater
Summary: Being nineteen does not necessarily equate mature and responsible adult. Two loving sweethearts aren't always happy. Mistakes happen and one too many drinks can a make a fool out of anyone. You can beat yourself over it or you can choose to move on, but sometimes those blunders come back with a vengeance. In the end, it is our actions that dictate who you will be.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling. Devil May Cry is owned by Capcom.

Original Count: 1,289

New Count: 2,402

* * *

The Drunken Mistake

 _Scretch-scretch-scretch_

The scrub moved in frantic circles, a woman on her hand and knees cleaned with fevered desperation. Her red hair pulled into a tight bun bounced with every desperate circle. Her charming freckled face sheened with sweat. It needs to be clean before he gets here never mind the fact that _he_ won't be returning until two weeks from now. He won't love her anymore if he ever found out how much a failure of woman she is. He'll leave. He can't know. He won't know. Oh god – it's not coming out!

 _Scretch-scretch-scretch_

She tries hard to ignore the small wooden jewelry box she never got around to using.

"…so stupid!"

Magic would help her but she just couldn't bring herself to just vanish _it_ all away.

* * *

Her back ached, her knees burned, and her arms were too heavy to lift after what seemed like hours of cleaning the old-fashioned way but the deed was done. Now, she simply sat on the wooden floor next The Spot. There was a dark tinge but nothing she couldn't pass off as little spill that she had cleaned – there's no need to use magic for everything, that is simply just laziness.

Blank faced, she simply stared at The Box. The more she stared, the more the lump in her throat grew. Her green eyes red and watery with insurmountable grief. The Box was brown and simple like a little brown c—

She curled herself into a ball and lay on her side staring at The Box. Silent tears burning down her cheeks. For hours, she lay staring until she couldn't stand the pain of lying on hard wood floor and dragged her feet upstairs to her bed and fell into a dreamless sleep.

She woke up the next day, emotionally exhausted and aching all over. She dragged herself off the bed and sluggishly went back downstairs. She stopped just a few feet away from the foot of the stairs. The Spot. Her lips trembled. Her hand clenched the railing and continued moving down the steps and ignored The Spot.

Tea. Tea will make things better. Tea always calmed down Mama on a bad day. Tea always calm quelled her sisters' temper. But wine, yes, wine always numbed everything. Wine made the pressure of the wizarding world seem like an annoying little buzz.

* * *

The Box was buried late in the evening by the five-year old tree they were growing.

When James returned exhausted but triumphant over their successful raid and moved straight to his wife preparing dinner for the equally exhausted marauders. He never noticed his Lily's sudden bout of depression and only caught her sunken eyes. She must have been tired from him being gone for so long. What he did notice was Lily sudden keen interest in keeping their pet project healthy. With how much attention she gave the thing, he would think that Lily had chosen the wrong professional focus of charms. She should have gotten into herbology when he mentioned this Lily went into such a sudden fury.

"What is wrong with you, Lily!?" James snapped at the furious red-head, he would later admit that he shouldn't have spoken to her in that manner. But her sudden unexplainable melancholy and it only got worse from there on. A poorly phrased question, a comment, a small gesture – anything, would set her into an angry tired.

"Why can't you be serious for once James?"

"Why don't pick up after yourself?"

"James, you need to tell me when we have guests over! Don't just spring them on me unprepared!"

"Stop using magic every little thing! What happens when you don't have your wand with you?! You need to rely on yourself more than a stupid twig!"

And he tried, he honestly tried. He stopped joking around as often as he did with her. He would manually wash the dishes and put them away. He sometimes would cook dinner with her (albeit she would snap at him for not doing something properly as well) or for her. He would warn her hours in advance when his friends would come over. Not they wanted to be over. Not with all the tension and biting comments. Sirius did his best to liven up his best friend, he took him out to watch a match or have a drink while chatting over miscellaneous thing. Anything to keep James from suffocating over thinking of his obviously failing marriage.

But there were times when James just couldn't.

"Did I do something wrong?" His red-rimmed eyes bore holes into Sirius' being. There was not much that he could do or say. Sirius wasn't one for words, that was Remus' job. But Sirius had known James for much longer and he knew what he needed know wasn't calming words from Remus or the silent awkward companionship of Peter. What he needed right now was the hard truth.

"You didn't do anything wrong; it's just not working."

"But I want it to work, I want Lily and I to grow old together. I want us to see our children step into King's Cross Station. I want a family with her."

James one too many drinks that night and instead of trampling back inside his house disturbing a sleeping Lily he decided to stay at Sirius'. A mistake he realizes when comes home in the morning to an agitated Lily.

"Where were you?"

"I – I didn't want wake you up so late," he slowly spoke, wary of whatever reaction she may have. "I stayed over with Sirius."

"You've been spending an awful lot of time with Sirius lately," she fired back with her arms crossed.

"It's not – what are you getting at?"

"I am saying that you spend more time with Sirius then you do with Remus or Peter. I wonder why that is."

"I am not having an affair with Sirius, Lily!" exasperated he carded his hands through his messy hair. "Why would—"

"Are you?"

"No."

"Is he covering for you?

"No."

"Is that why you won't…?"

"NO! Lily you're not happy. That's something we do when we're happy. When – When – When you _want_ to. When you're…Not when your unhappy. Not when you clearly don't love me anymore," James removed his glasses and toyed with them. He could see a burly Lily cross her arms. James had never been so glad for his poor vision until this very moment. "You don't trust me; you won't even tell me what's wrong, I can't help you if you won't tell me what's wrong."

"James, I—"

James laughed without mirth looking at her helplessly. "I'm…I'm going…to go for a walk. I need to think."

* * *

"So, is this it?" James sat slumped on the mattress. The spare bedroom was a little dusty from no use and bare of most homely commodities.

"Her suitcase was gone when I came back."

He said nothing at first, he only leaned against the doorframe examining his defeated friend.

"You can stay here as long as you want," he finally said and straighten, he needed to get ready. His shift started in an hour and had some last-minute details to add in his report before turning it in.

Sirius hesitated, licking his lips.

"Just go, I'll be fine. I need to be alone."

Sitting there alone. Depressed. Wife left him. War pressures. "Dammit," _When did I decide to become a responsible wizard?_

* * *

Two weeks later one late November evening Lily walked aimlessly. Her face fresh and clear but pale with slightly sunken eyes. She doesn't even remember what city she found herself in. Mort? Mortimer? Fort?

Her tired gaze shifted to a little hole in the wall pub.

* * *

Gasps.

Sighs.

Grunts.

That throbbing satisfying need _fulfilled_. And she felt…she felt.

* * *

An owl awaited two days later, and Lily's heart jumped.

 _Does he know?_

The letter quivers in her hands as she reads it. _Oh James, I'm so sorry_. She returns when she is for certain he will be away from work and unpacks her things to their rightful place. Lily immediately sets herself to cooking. A significantly lighter whiskey bottle and shot glass are left ignored. Humming away and puttering about like she had never left. Nothing happened. Nothing happened. Nothing happened.

She hears the _whoosh_ of the fireplace as she does the finishing touches of dinner and continues with her mantra of: Nothing happened. There is no guilt in her eyes except for her guilt of leaving for three weeks.

"Lily…"

"I made Shepard's pie and bread pudding." She beams gesturing to the set-up table. Shyly tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she looked up at his hazel eyes. "We should talk."

The messy haired man tucks her hair and grins tiredly. "Yeah, we should." He pulls her into his arms tightly taking in her scent. He pulls back looking at her green eyes: "We should."

He kisses her.

Hours later, she lies in bed tracing his sleeping form with her eyes. He doesn't need to know about her transgression. They never do get around to talking. And life continues, she nurtures the little tree with much care (she ignores Sirius' glares) and throws away all alcoholic beverages much to James' confusion. Alcohol, take one too many and accidents happen.

Then, one celebratory night with The Order she is _so_ happy. James is laughing with his best friends and talking with Alice who just disclosed her pregnancy to her. _Alice's pregnancy_. The burning jealousy and anger over her friend happy news…the little tree by its lonesome self at Godric's Hollow.

Tears threaten to spill...

"Lily what's wrong?"

Her heart pounding. She needs to…her head feeling light…she needs to leave. _Coward_ , the angry harshly whispered word echoes. She needs – "LILY!"

She wakes up in the safety of her bedroom with a somber James staring at her.

"You were drinking," James started. Confused at his serious tone, Lily simply stared. Yeah, she was drinking, everyone was. What's his point? "You're pregnant. You can't drink when you're pregnant Lily. I thought you knew that – what were you thinking?! You could have lost the baby, Lily!"

"What? I'm not pregnant!"

"Oh, so you're in denial now?"

"No, I'm not in denial. I have nothing to be in denial for because I am not pregnant, James. I would know."

"Yes, you would know. That's why you threw away all evidence of alcohol from our house. You haven't sipped a single drop of alcohol for three months. And that's why the Med-Witch asked me why I let you drink knowing you were pregnant. That's a nice way to find out your wife's pregnancy by the way. 'Lord Potter, alcohol is unhealthy for the mother and child. She had high blood pressure. Please consult with your wife, I urge you.'"

* * *

She tends to her little tree using her magic more than her hands nowadays. She couldn't bend over much. But she nurtures the little thin tree, she didn't want it to feel abandoned. At this second, James has left once more for a two-week venture, a top-secret mission from Dumbledore. He shouldn't be too long; the two weeks are nearly up.

The kitchen is clean, her little tree properly watered and tended to, her small little meal digested and her back has been aching terribly so. In fact, it's been, "Oh."

So that's what Molly meant.

"Ow," She should have taken up her offer of staying with rather than waiting for James to return.

It's too early.

She's alone, like that night so long ago. That night she feared it would be a stillborn, but cries of an irate babe quelled her fears. She gives birth on The Spot. Exhausted and sore, Lily pulls her baby boy close to her and smiles. Murmuring a cleaning spell, she removes all traces amniotic fluids consequently also removing The Spot as well. Lily smiles softly at the red mewling wrinkled boy and pulls him close to her heart. His fusses lessen at the beat of her heart. She takes in all that is her son from his tiny little feet to small button nose.

 _He's so small_.

She traces with a hovering finger his little nose, his pursed angry lips, his light brows furrowed in unmitigated anger. His feather soft light hair teases the tip of her finger. Long pale lashes have yet to reveal the color of his eyes. Will he have her green eyes or James' hazel hues? Then he let out a small yawn and his deep blue intelligent eyes met her own loving ones that soon turned shocked. Blue? Where did…oh. Oh, no.

He's right on time. It's at that very moment that she remembers what she conveniently forgot that November night. Her drunken mistake.

He can't know. She clutches her baby closer, he'll be the one to leave this time. He'll leave her. Where the hell did all her Gryffindor courage go? The infant huffed, his brows furrowed in further anger. His face reddening. "No, don't cry. Don't cry baby."

She licked her lips: "You'll only feel a little tingle."

The little boy huffed and a little coughing sound just as she tapped her wand on his white hair. He made the coughing sound again and little out a shaking wail of pure anger. "Shhh, it's okay baby, it's okay." But the little boy would not have it, and let his young mother hear his displeasure. Black ink spread from the crown of his little to the ends of what little white hair he had. Those intelligent blue eyes bled into a green shade.

She shushed the newborn but nothing seemed to be make him stop.

"He's hungry," a voice said plainly.

She startled: "James! Since when did you get here?"

"Just in time to watch you fumble with a crying baby. Honestly, isn't this supposed to be instinctual. Y'know, wham bam momma gives baby milk. That's what Frank said Alice did." James crouched near the still crying infant, his hazel observing all his irritated glory. "So…?"

"So…?"

"Milk?"

"Oh!" She unbuttoned her shirt ignoring his wriggling brows. She nudged in exposed breast awkward to angry wailing infant. "Come on." She accidently poked his face but the boy caught on and winced when he hungrily latched on.

"So?"

"So."  
Giggling, she asked, "Any names?"

James looked up at her grinning with his whole face, "I always thought Harry was a good name."

* * *

 **Review.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer** : Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling; Devil May Cry belongs to Capcom.

Original Count: 1,237

New Count: 3,178

* * *

Denying the Truth

He's crying again, James looked at the blurry form of his sleeping wife.

"Lily," he nudges her softly. "Lily."

She moans, muttering sleepily and adjusting herself further into the soft covers. Sighing and sluggish he drags himself from the comfort of his bed. An absentminded hand paws the glasses on the nightstand. Harry's wails echo down the hall as he pads closer to the cracked open door. He takes in his son's red-face. His little legs kicking; his little fisted hands arm fussing about. "Harry you're killing me, Dada needs sleep."

Harry's angry kicking and red sweaty face met his tired defeated face. James pulled into his arms. His little head resting against his neck; his bottom cupped by his father's large hand and his back held by his other hand. James leaned closer to his bottom sniffing and muttered a "still fresh". James gave little comforting circles on his back. Feeling the developing weak muscles and spine as he circled his back and swayed back and forth, he softly kissed the crown of his head. Harry would not have his comfort, however. He continued fussing, crying – his red heated wet face burning through his shirt and leaving an uncomfortable sticky and itchy sensation that made him grimace.

"You just had Momma's food too long ago, you'll get a tummy ache," he muttered.

For five minutes Harry refused to be comforted. "Harry please, Momma's tired. She needs sleep. Dada needs sleep. Go to sleep."

* * *

Lily's stared ahead the wall, her sclera red and lower lids bruised. She closed her eyes. James' muffled words carried through the wall and…his _rattling_ wails. _Good Mommas comfort their babies._

His tears. His cries. The old milk smell. She wanted to do nothing but squeeze her eyes shut and cover her eyes. A silencing spell would work well. What a bad Momma – terrible – a _failure_. Mrs. Evans is rolling in her grave. _You're a failure_.

 _You're a bad mother._

 _You're a bad wife._

 _How could you?_

 _How could you lie to him?_

 _How could you make him believe such a lie?_ He thinks Harry's his. He could ruin everything if her secret is discovered. He could destroy everything – her eyes shot wide open. When did she close her eyes?

* * *

"Thank you, Molly. I didn't know what else to do."

"Nonsense James," Molly lips where pressed into a smile. "Know what it's like to be a new parent."

She rubbed Harry's tummy. James rubbed his face tiredly, "He'll only stop crying with Lily. Every day and every night, she's been so tired."

Harry's content sleeping face pulled at his heart. It's been three months and still refuses to bond with him. "Is it okay…y'know, to give him Sleeping Draught? It feels wrong somehow."

Molly sighed, "It's not, technically, a sleeping draught but something akin to it. This draught has been passed down the Weasley Family for generations. It works but too much and the baby won't sleep without it. I used it with Percy – he would only stop crying to eat and sleep."

"James dear," Molly's worried eyes took in the exhausted man. "It's okay."

"I know that. Babies sometimes cry for no reason."

"That's not what I'm talking about…" She places her hand on his shoulder. "I'm talking about Lily."

James shook his head. His eyes tight and focused solely on Harry's sleeping form. "She's tired."

"When Charlie was born…without Arthur," she sighed. "It's okay to feel overwhelmed and anxious, but Lily…She needs help; she's sick."

"She's not sick," James sharply looked at Molly. "She's _tired._ Merlin knows I'm tired. Harry won't calm down until he's with Lily. She needs a break."

Molly simply stared.

"She's tired."

"Okay James," she stepped away from James and walked to a corked little bottle. She grabbed it and walked back to James, she pulled his hand palm and placed it in his hand. Her hands closed his with the bottle. "Use it only when you absolutely can't go to Lily. She needs to be bond with the baby. Babies need their mother at this stage. Have you tried sleeping with Harry?"

"Lily wants him to be able to sleep on his own. She says muggles do it all the time."

"What a cruel thing muggles do, babies find comfort with their mother. But maybe it is because they're muggles. The bonding stage with mother and child is important for a healthy magical development that's why he won't take comfort from you. What you need to do is every time you hold him is send a small magical pulse – eventually it will be second nature to you. It comes natural for mothers for the first year, fathers don't do so – it's not natural for them nor is it necessary. Arthur did it, I thought it was odd but he's always been an odd one. That's why I love him."

She swallows, "I urge you to encourage Lily to spend time with Harry even if she's _tired._ Perhaps, a visit to St. Mungos?"

* * *

"Mrs. Potter, how are we feeling today," the kindly matron started.

"Fine."

The med-witch smiled. "How is Harry? Is he still crying at night?"

"He's fine, behaving like usual."

"I see. Is it still hard to hold him?"

"Sometimes."

The questions and short answers continued for a full hour session and ended with the prescribed potion. The matron left the Potter House, and still Lily sat by herself in James' office.

Mother's Anxiety, they called it. Postpartum is what muggles called it. But Lily knew she didn't have it, she fingered the medium sized vial. She knew what she truly feels…guilt.

James' knocking pulled her away from her thoughts, she looked up to see him open the door with Harry at his hip. The four-month-old had pulled away from James, his little arms pushing against his chest and frowning. Maybe Harry knows, maybe he recognizes that James isn't his Dada.

"How'd it go?"

"Great."

Harry's green eyes zeroed in on her and immediately stretched his arm to her. His hands opening and closing. He huffed making that coughing whining sound and pushed against James with his right arm. And when Lily refused hold Harry, guilt filled, his face scrunched.

"Lily."

"James, please." Lily's eyes pointed to the door and shifted back to staring straight ahead. She missed Harry's increasingly reddening face. She also missed James narrowing his eyes and jaw locking. _I'm hiding behind a lie. I'm a bad mother; I won't even hold my own son._

She flinched at the slamming of the door, she did her best to pretend she didn't the wails that followed.

* * *

Six months in and James has experienced the first of many firsts.

The first time he rolled.

The first time he pushed himself up.

The first time he smiled.

The first time he crawled.

And every time, to his resentment, it was directed to Lily. Lily who would only hold him when prompted. He weened him so that she could avoid holding Harry. The boy demanded so much attention and Lily was unresponsive. It has gotten to the point that James needed an out and he did so by packing up Harry's things and spending time at Uncle Sirius' and Uncle Remus.

Harry hated it in the beginning and visit were cut short during his "epic tantrums" as Sirius called them. Eventually he grew to tolerate them and spent his time playing with his blocks by himself. He could see Lily's intelligence in the way he would build the blocks by colors. Sometimes he would stack them into pyramids and scrutinize them. Sometimes he would line them into a straight row and throw a fit if he noticed someone had moved it just a bit as Sirius found one day when Harry threw the very block he touched at his face. He was very particular about who touched his blocks, the very some blocks he had gifted Harry. The blocks were the boys' favorite something which James felt very accomplished about.

"You know," Remus started once, his gold eyes staring at Harry with a strange look in his eyes. "I spend a lot of time in the Muggle world and one thing I noticed is parents sometimes spend time in these public play areas where children interact. I know it's hard right now with how it is right now – "

"We can go together! Peter, Remus, James and I all together. Marauders together again and united to protect Muggles and Mug-lets. We can go tomorrow." Sirius stood dramatically, and James could almost hear the music playing in the background. Harry stared wide-eyed and mouth agape at the man both hands holding onto a blue block.

"Peter can't go, he's busy."

"He's been busy for some time now. Then we can go together like the trio named after a muggle candy bar."

"Three Musketeers." Remus supplied drily.

James snorted at his friends' antics.

"Come on Harry your Momma's probably worried about where her boys have gone on to," James knee walked to Harry and started to put away his blocks. Harry whined pushing his hand away almost as if to say "I can put away my own toys" and promptly started putting away his blocks by color and size of smallest to largest.

"She's worried alright," muttered Sirius.

James scratched the side of his nose.

"I can't go tomorrow," Remus looked at James from the corner of his eye who was staring hard at Harry packing away his things.

Sirius shifted, "Right." He scratched his scraggly unshaven face and pursed his lips in thought. "We'll I'm off tomorrow so we can still by the Three Muskets – "

"Musketeers."

"That's what I said."

"No – you know what, continue." Remus smiled thinly, Sirius scowled.

"Well…James, Harry, and I can go together to this," he twirls his hand, "play area."

"Go in the afternoon, that's when they're most active and please don't be act weird. Muggles are really protective of strange men near their children, wouldn't need the muggle enforcements to cause a scene."

"Yeah, what ya' say James?"

"I need to talk about Lily with it," Sirius rolled his eyes and Remus gave him a pointed look all which James missed. "You ready Harry?"

"Does he even, y'know, understand you? You talk to him like he's a little person."

"He understands certain sound yield certain action but not the words."

"No, he understands me. Look, Harry who have you the blocks?"

Harry scowls pulling the heavy bag closer to him with his right arm.

"Harry who gave you the blocks?"

"Wow."

"Shut it."

"Harry?"

The boy scowled but finally pointed at James; he whined when James pulled out three blocks set them in front of Harry. "How many blocks?"

Scowling the little boy started to grab the blocks again, "Hold on, Harry."

He scowled and crossed his arms, Remus had straightened at this point. "How many blocks?"

Harry glared stubbornly ahead. "Harry."

He lifted four fingers.

Sirius laughed, "Sorry kid, but no dice."

"No, he's right. Good job, Harry." James pulled out a block he had hidden in lap and underneath his hand. "See what I mean? You can put them away now, I'll sneak you some extra dessert when Momma's not looking."

Harry perked up and quickly put away his blocks again.

* * *

Harry fussed, huffing and being alright difficult when James bathed him that night after dinner. Unfortunately, James was unable to sneak him some dessert and boy did Harry not forget.

"I know I promised but your Momma caught me."

Harry fussed again splashing soapy water on his face. And once again, James witnessed another first. Harry stood and pushed against his face, and James was too stunned to get upset with the troublesome six-month-old. His little legs buckled and sat harshly on the tub. Both father and son stared at each other stunned; Harry promptly relieved himself in the tub.

"Shit," James grabbed him by his armpit. Another bath.

Round two.

Harry had calmed down a bit but still just as fussy as before, but at least he squeaky clean. James sighed watching him play around with his bath toys for a bit. "Oh nothing makes me sadder than the baby lost his bladder in bath time," he sang. Harry gave him a gummy grin.

(His eyes are more turquoise than green these days.)

"Yeah laugh it up buddy."

Hours later, and one onesie incased Harry slept in his cot. James placed a hand on his little tummy rising and falling with each breath. "Goodnight." He leaned in kissing his forehead but as he moved something caught his eye. He leaned closer and fingered a lock of hair. He continued rolling it against his fingers.

"James, are you coming to bed?"

His feet padded softly has he walked from his son's bedroom. Lily sat upright in a nightgown smiling at him as he sat on his side removing his glasses on the nightstand. "James," she whispered leaning closer to him. She wrapped her arms around him, her breasts pressed against his back and chin resting on his shoulder. She seemed lively tonight even throughout dinner. "James."

"Lily," he grabbed her hand. "Is Harry…"

He didn't need to see her face, "Is Harry what?"

"Nothing. I'm tired," he scratched his head. "He stood up on his own."

"I'm sorry I missed that," Lily murmured longer as lively as she had been.

 _No, you're not_. "Remus mentioned taking Harry to a public play area muggles use for other babies to interact with each other. Sirius and I are planning on going tomorrow."

"Playground."

"What?" He looked at her.

"It's called a playground, I used to go to one of those with my sister all the time when I was little. You should go, I'll take you boys there tomorrow."

With his heart pounding, James turned fully to Lily. "Are you going to spend time with Harry and I? Sirius can go…"

"No," Lily removed herself completely from him and his heart crashed. "I'll take you there tomorrow but…I want to…I've been…I'm going to spend more time with you, with Harry. I've been horrible."

Brows furrowing, "No."

Lily shook her head and eyes reddening. "I've been a terrible mother. I've been horrible to you. I made you take all the responsibilities. That's not fair. That's not fair to you nor Harry. Please forgive me."

"I – "

"I'm sorry."

"Okay."

* * *

The next day Lily willing held Harry for the first time, James felt his heart swell. The six-month-old however, simply pressed against her chest and stared at her. With a huff, Harry leaned away from her making grabbing motion for James instead huffing. Lily frowned, and when James made no move for Harry. His face reddens in preparation for one big tantrum, and James quickly pulls him into his arms. Harry buries his face in his neck pouting. Sirius, who witnessed the scene, shifted around awkwardly attempting to ignore Lily's betrayed face.

The playground is interesting to say the least. There were more mothers with hawk-eyes then there were couples. James and Sirius had never felt so awkward in their lives. With a determined face, Sirius adjusted the diaper bag and tugged James with baby in tow to the play area with babies the same age as Harry.

In the viewpoint of the parents in the park, they saw two attractive men with their son on their first outing. Some women (and men) thought it was cute how the messy haired man adjusted his glasses in a "I don't know what I'm doing" about way while his partner looked ready for battle.

The glasses wearing man plopped his adorable son in the sandbox occupied with another baby. "Now Harry, Dada will be right over there," he points to a nearby bench, "with the idiot."

"Hey!"

The man fixed his sons' shirt and reluctantly walked to the bench with his exasperated partner.

One curious mother by the name of Sara Crewe approached the two men. She was woman with full lips, blonde wavy hair, and just a little bit on the heavy side. "You two are new to the park."

"Our friend suggested we go to parks so Harry can interact," she smiled at that.

She points to the boy sharing the sandbox with the boy she is nannying. "That one is mine, Tommy."

She introduced herself as a nanny for this posh family and introduces them three other nannies and "I have a nanny friend…". It takes the two of them awhile to realize that one: she's on the hunt for potential employers. Two: she thinks James and Sirius are a couple. And three: Harry is their adoptive love child (and "How cute, he almost looks like you Mr. Potter.").

That last bit had James almost frowning, but Sirius pointed at Tommy. "Is he supposed to be eating that?"

Sara jumped shouting, "Tommy no! We don't eat sand."

* * *

Time passed quickly, the visits to the park continued. Harry eased up on Lily but still preferred James. He toddled everywhere now that he could walk. His little legs followed James long ones and made a point to take longer strides like his father. When Uncle Sirius and Uncle Remus showed up for a visit, Harry would make it a point to toddle around Sirius and make a straight beeline to Remus. Remus' smug look always made him want to strangle him.

Everything, it seemed, was getting better. Lily was no longer emotionally distant with her family and James could pretend. Harry's birthday went by with little fanfare.

August came by with a solemn visit from Dumbledore and it got harder to pretend being confined in Godric's Hollow. Even Harry felt it, now that he visits to the park were denied. Their relationship became once more strained.

Harry still didn't speak, although, James understood that it was a matter of preference rather than being unable.

It was on the 31st of October 1981 that James bore witness another first for the final time. A frustrated James frowns at a fussing Harry, "With what were you playing? I can't get this stain off."

Throws the wash cloth to the side and rubs the stain on Harry's right hand with thumb. With each soft rub, Harry fussing ceases. James looks up to meet Harry's watery blue ones with a full-on pout. "Da."

James' hazel ones teared up. His hand rubbing Harry's significantly lighter hair and really looked at his son. _I can't keep lying to myself._

"Da, ow."

James pulled Harry close into a fluffy towel and padded off to his crib. He pulled Harry into a blue onesie and rubbed his belly until he nodded off. "I'm your Da, Harry."

 _I'm his Da. I should talk to Lily._

James never got his chance to talk to Lily that night; Voldemort killed him that before the confrontation could occur. Lily lived long enough to cast a final charm to assure his safety and tuck a letter into his clothes. Despite her recent cowardice, Lily died standing her ground. Determined to protect Harry, to protect James' son.

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 **Honest Reviews are very much appreciated (even if sometimes I may not like the content).**

There are two references in this chapter, albeit one adapted to fit the scene. Guess :3

Author's Note:

I originally wanted to note in the first chapter that I was fully aware of what babies look like and behave in the first chapter but I chose not to in the end because I didn't want to accidentally give spoilers for any new readers. I took a few creative liberties considering the premise of this story.

The one thing I always had trouble when writing is displaying emotion realistically, and it was (and still is) one of my biggest faults in writing. That is why the original first two chapters I personally felt where pretty bland. It is my hope that I succeeded in displaying human emotion and the confusing aspects that is human emotion (since realistically people are not a one dimensional beings displays emotion in a straight stagnant line). Please, as a developing writer honestly tell me if the emotions are real or feel real (as I use FanFiction for my own selfish purposes to improve my own original writing). I really wanted delve into the concept of not infidelity but rather trust. And as James and Lily will not be appearing again, I will say this: I wrote this in mind that Lily partly didn't trust her husband (probably because she still felt James was the same mean-spirited boy that bullied her former friend (because she always gave me the impression she was a little vindictive - I may be wrong). I wrote James as a man that desperately wanted the dream family and was willing to deny, deny, deny. But then again, as a writer you never know what you write down subconsciously ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer** : J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter. Capcom owns Devil May Cry.

In which Credo high-jacks this chapter; and only the beginning and ending resemble the original chapter 3. So...enjoy!

Word Count: 1,821

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A Father

 _To Whom It May Concern:_

 _Birth Date: July 31, 1980_

 _Letter enclosed is for when he is old enough to understand, pleas—_

A leg bounced, pencil held in white-knuckled grip, blues eyes darting to see the minute hand sluggishly tic-toc away. Next to the impatient boy was an auburn-haired girl, her brown eyes flickered to the chalkboard. She could see the vein pulsing just above the instructors' temple. _Tic, tic, tic, tic…_ the point of the pencil bouncing off the wooden desk. The intense battle of wills between the ill-tempered instructor and the resident smartass. Kyrie's face redden and flushed from the intensity of it all. As the minute hand, neared endpoint of the day both chalk and pencil snapped. The instructor spun ready to shout; the bell rang and Nero was out the door with a sarcastic comment involving his "subpar and boring" lesson.

Kyrie gathered her things and walked avoiding any type of eye contact lest she get in trouble by association.

She trotted after her best friend, who standing awkwardly near the school gate. She hastily tugged her hood on just before she stepped outside. Nero had done the same even but not for the sake of following the Repentance Rule. No, he just didn't like standing out like a sore thumb.

"Stop pushing Mr. Stone, he'll make you write standards again."

The nine-year-old snorted, "I can see it now: I will not disrespect Mr. Stone."

"That isn't funny, Nero. Remember last time you stayed until sunset and got in trouble with Sister Temperance and she made re-do your homework a hundred times that same day and more standards too about not being tardy!"

Oh yeah, Nero remembered that day. His right hand was never the same again…worth it. He kicked a stone and watched it sail away. "Ain't my fault that old codger can't teach for shit. He's more boring than Credo! Credo makes even the basics of sword fighting boring as hell. 'The Holy Knights swordsmanship has been passed down for…blah, blah, blah.'"

"Liar! I remember yesterday you were bouncing to learn about the order!" She pointed at his hooded face. "I saw stars! 'Oh Credo, tell me ab—"

"I don't talk like that!"

"Uh-huh, 'Credo your _so_ cool. That's your sword that _so_ awesome!'"

"I didn't say anything of that. You're a liar," Nero rubbed his nose trying hard to cover his embarrassment.

Kyrie giggled, "I'll stop, okay."

She tugged his hand linking it with hers and walked together quietly. Nero hated when she did that but never stopped her from doing it anyway. Nero's days mostly went like this: spend his time outside wandering about the streets or spend the day at Kyrie's talking (gossiping) or doing homework together. Two hours before sundown, Credo would walk him back to the orphanage. Sometimes, when he wanders around, he'll stay past curfew and one the sisters would drag back by the ear.

The looming orphanage with its eerie gothic design and black gates, anyone with a bit of a working braincell could see why most of the orphans spent their days outside of it. It was so dreary and lifeless, and those thick ruler and paddle wielding sisters don't make home any easier for the inhabitants. "I'll see you tomorrow," he muttered.

Kyrie watched her best friend slouch to the gates and push them open just a bit to be able to squeeze through it. "Bye Nero," she whispered.

Nero would have walked her home, but he was still in trouble for last time and it was better that he didn't push his luck. He dragged his feet to his shared room with ten other boys. Luckily the room was empty, he wasn't exactly in the room to hear the smartasses mocking his hair. He tugged the hood further over his head.

 _"Outside the Holy grounds and the sun's grace, we must never hide in our own familiar dwellings. We repent, for without the Savior, we would still live under the shadows of demonic forces. We stay in the shadows to remember the Savior, but the stay in the shadows of our homes and familiarities to hide away and covet the darkness of our human hearts. Nero, please understand. I know that it is hard for you, they mock your appearance. But children are unkind by nature, they'll grow out of it. Endure, for it is your endurance of pain the will be your measure of worth. The Savior has gifted you with these looks for a reason, you must simply make of it as you will."_

He removed his satchel and hugged it tightly. He should get started on his homework…his blue eyes dragged to calendar at the uncrossed date. Minutes ticked by, children laughed and played outside, boredom filled his mind. Still his eyes focused on the date.

He could hear one of the girl's practicing the harp and singing. Closing his eyes, the longing song pulled his mind into a daze. "La rosa enflorece…En el mes de Mayo…mi alma s'esc…"

He stared…and stared. The date.

Abruptly, he stood and grabbed his satchel.

And ran…and ran.

His legs carried him with a destination in mind. Nine, today he's nine. His heart hammered, thudding with the beat of his heavy steps. He could sign for the Order of the Sword now, Ms. Temperance would surely sign the permission slip too! He's smart enough to prove himself too.

The Order, it meant independence. It meant spending time with Credo…sometimes he thinks, that Credo's know it all attitude and his patience, maybe that's what family is like…that's what a big brother does, _a father_.

Credo and Kyrie, their parents had died when Credo was just seventeen and Kyrie five. At the time, Credo was out finishing his final induction into the Order and wouldn't return until three months later. It was during that time Kyrie was relocated into the orphanage until her brother returned. That's where he met her.

He remembers finding her hidden in the supplies closet crying. That's he'd gotten in trouble again and had to clean up the mess he'd made as punishment and then some. "Stop crying, it makes you look ugly." He'd snapped at her, too angry to care about the snot-nosed newbie.

Her tears stopped alright, and instead got a flushed angry girl in return for his so-called assistance. "Shut up, you – you – butthead!"

"Whatever, crybaby…" He crossed his arms.

"I wasn't crying!"

"Were too!"

"Was not!"

"Were too!"

"Was not!"

"Were too times ten!"

"Was not times infinity"

"Were too infinity times two!"

"You can't do infinity time two, it's infinity! It goes forever!"

"Says who?"

"Says the books!"

Nero smirked, "You're not crying anymore."

She turned red crossing her arms and tears sprung from eyes once more.

"I said stop crying, you look ugly!"

She cried again, "I can't; I'm sad. My mom and dad are dead. They're not coming back. They're not gonna hug me anymore. They're not gonna read me bedtime stories. They're not gonna kiss my hurts…"

This time Nero turned red, "So…I never met my parents. You don't see me crying about it!"

"Shut up!" She kicked him and ran away.

It was like for the first few weeks, Kyrie and Nero always bickering. Arguing and getting into actual fights until one of the sisters pulled them apart. Standing in corners together; scrubbing floors together; writing standards together; benched during playtime together built some sense of comradery between the two. They never officially apologized to one another but they became near inseparable. If not for the male-female segregation, Nero and Kyrie would probably had shared the same bed too.

Incidentally, the troublesome duo was both standing in the self-dubbed Corner of Shame when Credo finally made his appearance. One look at Credo and Kyrie was lighting up like the sun. She launched herself to her brother, blubbering and crying about how much she missed him. And Nero thought that would be the last of his friend. She would leave and forget about him. But the next day, Kyrie returned with Credo in tow. She quickly abandoned her brother with his boring book and dragged Nero off to play. Once again inseparable.

Credo was the one who told him to stand up straight and that a "gentleman does not slouch in front of a lady." Credo was the one who told him a "gentleman is never rude." And when he found of his interest in the Order of the Sword, he stressed the need to be studious. He told him about the rules of Swordsmanship, the traditional stances, and rules within the Order.

When they both turned six, Credo signed them up for school and he officially sponsored him for the same school as Kyrie. Apparently, the orphans did "self-study" with the sisters and while that was okay the education would be subpar for anyone wanting to enter the Order. He walked them both to school for the first half of the year until he got too busy.

On his seventh birthday, Credo gave him a book on swordsmanship and a new satchel. He had pushed his hood away and ruffled his hair. Not smiling, never smiling – Credo didn't smile. No, Credo smiled with his eyes. Nero didn't think he was capable of smiling – babies cried if he did.

On his eighth birthday, Credo had got him a practice sword. He could only practice at his house and under his careful eye. (Kyrie baked him a cake – tasted like crap. Credo forced him to eat it, even though Nero could clearly see the pain in his eyes. Nero learned another "gentleman rule" that day: never hurt a lady's feeling purposefully.)

Nero huffs, and kicks a stone. He should have stayed at the orphanage, he stuffs his hands in his pockets. He kicks the stone again as he walked to catch up to it. He kicks it again.

 _Clack_ , the rock smacked on metal bar. The bars belonged to the locked gates of the Fortuna Cemetery. He squeezed his eyes shut, a hand clawed at his heart. Are they buried there? Fury swelled his heart. The clawing hand twisted into a fist, he walked away glaring. There were times when he remembered…a voice. A male voice laughing; in his dreams are filled with mischievous hazel eyes. "I'm your Da…" The voice whispers.

In his dreams, he mostly hears his what he assumes to be his father's voice. His fathers' laughter. His fathers' amused eyes. Sometimes, Nero wonders if his mother was ever alive in the first place. Did she die when he was born? Is that why he doesn't remember like he does his father?

But then he remembers a woman screaming, begging, and cruel laughter…

Nero hissed and clutched his right hand close to his chest. Slowly, he pulled away his throbbing hand and there on his hand surrounding his birthmark was inflamed skin.

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